


Captain Calling

by NiciJones, reversedandremanded



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Isolation, M/M, Misunderstanding, Scientist!Timmy, Sexting, Space Captain!Armie, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, science fiction AU, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 23:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiciJones/pseuds/NiciJones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversedandremanded/pseuds/reversedandremanded
Summary: It's only been a few weeks into the mission when Scientific Ensign Timothée Chalamet falls sick. Since they can't determine what he has and whether it's infectious, he gets put into quarantine. Locked in isolation Timmy is mostly lonely so he's more than happy when the captain makes sure to call.Captain Armand Hammer on the other side feels responsible for all of his crew members and wants to make sure Timmy isn't suffering more than he has to. In his attempt to cheer Timmy up he forgets his place a little and exactly where they both stand in the hierarchy of the spaceship.





	Captain Calling

**Author's Note:**

> This is our new work that is one of the two interpretations we had for "desperate FT sex". While not free of angst, this one is certainly not as moody as Kingda Ka I'd like to say.

As the leader of the HERMES mission, Armie has a lot of responsibilities aside from his scientific experiments, and he took them very seriously. It isn’t the first time mankind had undertaken the long journey to Mars, but it’s always a long way to go and it felt twice as long when you were caged into a tin can.  
He knew everyone on his crew like the back of his hand. He knew exactly how they reacted when things were off. But at last notice, Saoirse, a bright young astronaut that had been supposed to be part of their team, fell sick and Timothée had taken her place. And while Armie had trained with him and knew him, he wasn’t part of the crew in the same way.  
So he did notice Timmy’s sweaty forehead and general clumsiness but unlike with the others, he wasn’t sure how serious the problem was. When he brought it up with Timmy, which is what he has taken to calling him, he got brushed off. It was only after the symptoms got worse that he dragged him to Osadhi, who is the team’s doctor.  
Immediate quarantine was the result. They were prepared for that event. Since she couldn’t say for certain what he had caught, they were going to disinfect the whole ship and isolate him until he was healthy or they could say for certain it wasn’t contagious.  
“I’m sorry, but believe me. No one is feeling up to taking over your complicated chemistry experiments,” Armie tried to joke as he sealed the door with the command codes.  
There was a bull’s eye in the door through which he could make out Timmy’s forlorn expression. He could darken the window from the inside to have full privacy and everything he needed to live was inside of the little room. But Armie suspected that all the books and movies were going to get boring soon, especially when he’d much rather work on his experiments. However long they needed to keep him locked up, it was going to feel much longer to Timmy.

Timmy had been trying to convince both himself and everyone on the crew that he was fine. He had started noticing some purple splotches soon after launch, but assumed he'd just accidentally spilled one of his solutions on himself and was developing a rash. He only started to get mildly worried when he began to sweat through his shirt each day. He of course had his HERMES-issued uniform components, but generally liked to keep it casual unless they had a video conference with mission control or he was on other official business. Of course, the nutritional engineers had made sure the crew had plenty of water for the long journey, but Timmy was wary to start drinking so much water so soon into the trip. What if everyone got the flu or a stomach bug and really needed to hydrate? Trying to make sure everyone else would have enough to hydrate themselves if things got bad, Timmy dehydrated himself. It made him clumsier and he could feel the brain fog setting in. He did his best to brush off the captain when he showed concern, but after a couple weeks, when his gait was visibly altered, he was losing weight, and he could no longer hide the purple patches creeping over his arms and stomach, he allowed himself to be dragged to Osadhi's office aboard the ship.  
Getting placed in quarantine was perhaps the worst thing that could've happened to Timmy on this mission. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it was certainly a massive inconvenience. Because everyone still seemed mostly clueless on what he was infected with, there was no time estimate for how long he would have to live in isolation. Even within the first few hours, he could feel himself starting to lose his mind. It wasn't helpful that his body felt so out of sorts. Even after weeks, his fever was unrelenting. His muscles ached and he had a splitting headache, making it impossible to read or watch anything for more than 10 minutes. Partially because his overheating body was uncomfortable, and partly because he felt like hearing another human voice (though it had been only a few hours), he paged the captain with the button on the wall next to his bed, knowing it would vibrate Armie's wrist module. The two had trained at the Academy together, and while always friendly, Timmy wouldn't say they had been good friends. Adjacent friend groups, maybe; a number of mutual friends. That said, Timmy had always admired him. He had great leadership charisma, was a skilled scientist, and was easy on the eyes. Timmy never mentioned it to anyone, but he had had quite a number of dreams about Captain Hammer in a compromising position both in his time at the Academy and since.  
Armie picked up quickly, and his face illuminated the small hidden screen on the wall in Timmy's quarantine room. "Hi, captain," Timmy said quickly. "Is there any chance you can control the temperature in here?". There wasn't a mirror in the room, but Timmy could tell based on his reflection in the porthole window that looked out among the stars that his curls looked slick with sweat and that his cheeks were likely red and flushed.

Armie frowned and jumped off the treadmill. He had been in the middle of his workout so he grabbed the towel he had hanging nearby and dried his face quickly. He didn’t like the look of Timmy at all. There was a purple splotch peaking over his shirt collar and he looked soaked in his own sweat.  
“Hey. You look pretty hot in there. Sure, I can turn the temperature down, but I don’t want you to be cold. Better to sweat it out, don’t you think?” He asked. “Either way, I’d like to consult Osadhi before I make any changes.” He pointed out. The safety of his crew was his first priority. “How have you been holding up in there?” Both the rest of the crew and Timmy were his responsibility, and he was mindful to lend all of them his ear. The last thing they needed was one of them losing their cool three weeks into the mission.

Timmy’s feverish brain initially misinterpreted Armie’s comment about looking hot and he let a small giggle escape his mouth, but quickly got ahold of himself; it seemed a little early to get unprofessional. “I’m a little worried about all the water weight I’m losing, in all honesty,” he said, entirely tired of being sticky and sweaty all the time. He wiped a skinny wrist across his forehead to illustrate his point to the captain. “Would you mind keeping me on video when you talk to Osadhi? I want to stay updated and have a feeling that I’m going to forget how to interact with other human beings soon if I don’t get to talk to one every once in a while.” He had seen the look on Armie’s face when the video first connected and had wanted to keep the spirit light and joking, let him know that, at least for now, everything was okay. 

Armie’s forehead was still scrunched up. He really didn’t like the look of Timmy and mentally made a note to review that he had enough access to water and check on the defecator to make sure it wasn’t struggling with cleaning the extra water. “Of course I can keep you on,” he assured him. “It’s your health after all. You know what? I’m going to go to her straight away.” Armie suggested. “Let me just-“ He pulled his soaked shirt over his head and used the towel to get the worst of the wetness before pulling on his standard issue t-shirt. “Don’t worry I’m going to take a shower as soon as we are done. Don’t want to risk mutiny because I stink.” He joked. In training, he had found Timmy not only to be competent and intelligent but also funny and easy-going. Besides, he could probably use a little cheer-up. Worrying was Armie’s job.

Timmy made his best attempt to look like he was looking away from the screen while also making sure he had an unobstructed view of the captain’s bare chest for the few seconds it was exposed. “Oh no, it’s not an emergency or anything. Don’t let me take you away from what you were doing,” he said, cracking a smile at the captain’s dumb joke. If he couldn’t spend time with anyone, he could manufacture fantasies in his head of Armie, who had just supplied him with some ammunition for just that. He hated being and feeling like an inconvenience. The crew on this mission was big and so was the ship, he knew that Armie had a lot of other responsibilities beyond Timmy and his mystery illness. He drank a bit of water from the cup next to the bed, partially because he was parched, but mostly trying to assuage some of Armie’s worry. 

Armie huffed and shook his head. “All excuses are welcome to escape gym time. Even if mission control is going to have my head for it eventually.” He pushed out of the gym, which was in one of their gravity components, and into one of the connection tubes. “I’m the captain and I make the decisions. Can’t wait for them to be 20 light minutes away so that they’re not going to find out about me having a burger out of schedule until it’s too late.” He made an elegant spin at a crossroad and took the one leading down to Timmy and the medical unit. “I can just be like, ‘What am I supposed to do? Puke it all up and make a mess in your 56 billion dollar starship?’ Ha that’d shut them up.” Armie was a talker. An entertainer. It’s partly why he’d gotten the job as the captain. He knew how to cheer people up without being insensitive or missing out on the fine nuances of their moods. And also he was naturally protective. His crew had first priority always. Mission control could suck his dick if they suggested otherwise.

“When they cut your head off does that me you’ll make your way down here and stay in the infirmary with me?” Timmy admired the comfort with which Armie made his way through the zero and lesser-gravity portions of the shift, looking so at home in a world which his body was never really meant to inhabit. While he certainly knew how to take care of himself in space, this was the longest mission Timmy had ever even contemplated going on. He could tell that a bit of his inexperience showed in the clumsy way he made his way into the dining area from his lab, even before his fever and dehydration made him less steady, and hoped none of the crew giggled about it behind his back. Though trying to suppress it, he let out a lung-rattling cough, smothering it into his elbow to muffle some of the noise.

Armie didn’t like the sound of that cough. “Sure I will. Going to look like Frankenstein, though,” he pointed out and pushed off the handles a little more forcefully. “Going to annoy you until you wish you were alone in isolation again,” he joked and grabbed the latter leading to the medbay. “Hey, Osadhi.” He greeted the small woman who was currently preparing some experiment, probably in a Petri dish. She looked up when she was done. There was no way you could distract her from an important task.  
“Commander, how can I help you?” Armie was still only slowly getting used to constantly being addressed this way. “It’s about Timmy. He is sweating his ass off in there and asked me to turn down the temperature in there. Is that okay with his fever? I have him on com here.” He gestured to his wrist.

Timmy waved meekly at Osadhi, feeling weird that he had to do it through a monitor and a camera even though she and Armie were less than a hundred feet from him. “This might be a silly request, but would you two mind coming and talking to me through the glass outside my room instead of on comm? Might as well do a prognosis/status as long as we’re all here, right?” he let out a small chuckle at the absurdity that he would be “here” for the foreseeable future by no choice of his own. Timmy had an introverted nature, would often get caught up in experiments for hours and barely feel the passage of time. He liked taking walks alone on earth and being with his thoughts, or reading at a cafe, surrounded by people but not interacting with any of them. He liked these things when he chose them, though. The fact that they were now being thrust upon him by circumstance made him feel isolated and lonely rather than at peace. It was making him far more anxious than he had anticipated, and a lot quicker, too. The thought that it could go on for many months made it even worse.

Armie and Osadhi shared a glance but then Osadhi nodded. “Sure.” She grabbed her tablet and led the way to the quarantine cell while Armie ended their call. Osadhi opened the file while Armie activated the microphone both ways so that they could talk through the thick window.  
“Well let’s start with a basic examination to see whether your condition has worsened since the last time,” she started and Armie quietly moved into the background. He knew that someone might say that he was wasting his time but he liked keeping close tabs on his crew. Especially since it was obvious Timmy wasn’t dealing very well.  
“Of course you may ask the captain to leave at any given point.” Osadhi gave him a stink eye. She wasn’t a huge fan of his overprotective nature which often led to irrational demands but they got along well nonetheless. She knew why he was doing it and that he wasn’t seriously doubting her abilities. “Can you take your temperature for me, Mr Chalamet?” She asks.

Timmy gave Armie a meek thumbs up as he walked over to the bedside table to grab the termometer. He dragged the censor across his forehead and waited for it to chime. “39.5 degrees,” Timmy said as it flashed on the screen. He was relieved, it had been higher last time he took it, but he wasn’t about to say that in front of Armie. Osadhi made a disapproving face that Timmy couldn’t quite read.  
“Okay Mr. Chalamet, please remove your shirt. We need to inspect the state of your skin discoloration,” Osadhi said as she made a note on her tablet. Timmy grabbed the back of the neck on his t-shirt and pulled, a little concerned at how much effort it required to do this simple task. This wasn’t quite the way he had imagined Armie seeing his bare chest for the first time when he had fantasized about it at school.

Armie tried his best not to let his shock at the size and number of the splotches show. He was trained to keep cool during a crisis, after all. He also wondered whether Timmy had always been this skinny or if he simply hadn't noticed. It looked unhealthy now, that much was clear. "Are you eating enough?" He prompted even though he knew Osadhi would give him another stink eye for that. She did but she didn't tell him off and instead cataloged the splotches.

“I haven’t been that hungry, in all honesty,” he responded, unsure if he should be directing his answer at Osadhi or the captain. “I’m going to switch up some of your meal plan to include more soylent. It should help you gain weight and should be easier than forcing your body to eat solid meals.” Timmy saw her share a look with Armie, but because she had her face turned away from him, he couldn’t tell how worried he should be. She continued to scrutinize his torso, taking pictures with the tablet so she could measure the surface area of each purple spot. “Mr. Chalamet, please remove your sweatpants as well.” Timmy obliged, hoping that if nothing else, it would at least cool him down. The mood felt like it had taken a turn toward the serious and the clinical, and it started to make Timmy uncomfortable. The quarantine room was almost exclusively sterile white, with easy to clean walls and floors. He could normally control the lighting to make it softer, but Osadhi had turned the fluorescents all the way up to get a better idea of the splotches covering his body. He stood there under the bright lights, exposed in all but his briefs. “This lighting really does wonders for my skin tone, huh?” he joked, making eye contact with Armie. 

Armie grinned even if he knew that Timmy was trying to lighten the mood, that he must feel uncomfortable. Then again it was perhaps a natural reaction to being scrutinized like cattle at a market. "Sure. Could rival my dead grandma in her funeral gown," he quipped back easily. If he was honest with himself though, Timmy looked more like an ethereal angel than his dead granny, let that cunt rest in peace. He didn't mean what he, said since Armie was only human and he and practically every crew member had fallen for Timmy's curls and fascinating eyes. He had been a bit shy around them since he was the replacement of a beloved crew member but Armie had been convinced he would get used to it and show them what he was really made of. Somewhere in that awkward boy lay the knowledge that he knew exactly what he was doing to those around him, Armie was sure. But now the sickness was grating on his nerves and made him even more unsure of himself. Hopefully he would be able to distract him enough from it to find out whether he was right about his suspicions in time. For now, he knew that Zhi would complain about his captain rights, including seeing an almost naked Timothée.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t want to be haunted from beyond the grave.”  
Osadhi cleared her throat, snapping Timmy and the captain out of their banter. “Please step on the scale.” Timmy did, and read it number aloud. “102.” It did seems like a diet alteration was going to be necessary. Osadhi made several notes and turned back towards Timmy. “I’ll turn the temperature in there down a degree and a half, because I don’t want you to overheat. That said, fevers are often accompanied by chills, and the last thing I want is for you to shiver in there. I need you to rest.” Timmy sighed. A degree and a half would hardly make a dent in how overheated he constantly felt. He put his sweatpants back on and sat on the bed to get the t shirt on again, feeling exhausted. While still feeling sweaty and sticky, he figured he should re-dress for decency’s sake, as the captain was still standing there. “Any indication about how long you think I’ll have to be in here?” Timmy asked, making eye contact with Armie instead of Osadhi. He wondered if Armie could see the panic settling behind his eyes. 

"Not until we know for certain what you have. I'm corresponding with the medical team on earth. We have the best experts on your case," she assured him with a nod before leaving them alone.  
Armie really, really wouldn't have said that. No one likes to know that they need earth's best experts in medicine on their case. When Osadhi was out of earshot he stepped up to the glass pane. "Hey, you're not gonna give up on me in there." He said softly as he watched Timmy pull on his shirt, again hiding the splotches. He worried. It had only been a day and he knew from mission control they estimated a month, probably more to find out what he had and cure it completely. "You can always call me. Even if you think it's stupid or silly or that I won't have time for you- Call me." He insisted. Maybe that would help ease the circumstances a little. From what he could tell, Timmy hadn't had much contact at all since he's been locked up.

“Are you sure?” Timmy wanted to stay sitting upright to talk to Armie, but his aching musculoskeletal system thought otherwise. He curled up into the bed and rested his head on a pillow. “You’ve got a big crew and this is an important mission. I can’t imagine mission control being thrilled about you spending your time on call with the sick bay.” The chills Osadhi had mentioned starting coming on, and Timmy grabbed the blanket he had hardly used since going into isolation. 

Armie watched Timmy shiver before he managed to pull the blanket over himself. “I’ll make time. And if mission control isn’t pleased with my decision they can suck my dick.” He declared. “You should try to sleep a little.” The shivers were still visible even through the blanket and Armie could barely stop the urge to go inside and rub his arms and back to warm up. He would go to Osadhi as soon as he was convinced that Timmy rested he, decided. Maybe she was withholding something for the sake of Timmy’s mindset.

Timmy let out a surprised laughed at hearing the captain say mission control could “suck his dick.” “I’m glad power hasn’t changed you,” Timmy said with a smile, remembering how goofy, and in all earnestness, profane Armie had been at the academy. That was certainly a mental image Timmy planned on fixating on for a few hours once Armie left and he had little to do, alone in this silent, white room. While Armie was still standing outside though, he need to get his mind off the captain’s dick. He made a show of yawning and adjusting the covers, letting Armie know he was settling in for a nap. “Hey,” he said as as his eyes were closing, “thanks for coming down in person. Means a lot to see your face.” Soon after, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let us know what to think about this setup! We have been enjoying this universe a lot so there's more to come for certain. If you haven't already also feel free to check out our other collaboration: [Kingda Ka](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15432108).


End file.
